


Mothers Take the Stage

by Crowoxy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Everyone gets an extra mum, F/F, F/M, Family, Found Family, Gen, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Postpartum Depression, Warlock Joins the Them, domestic abuse (slight), down with the patriarchy, mention of child neglect, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22443577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowoxy/pseuds/Crowoxy
Summary: Harriet Dowling tries to be a mother, has a breakdown, meets someone new, and gets invited to an all parents complaint group in the span of an hour. It's the start of how she reclaims her life back with the help of Nanny Ashtoreth and people in a small town called Tadfield and how Nanny Ashtoreth becomes a Nanny for more than just Warlock (the definite Antichrist) and finds out just how much she enjoys it.Alternatively titled: Stealing One Back From the Patriarchy
Relationships: Arthur Young | Mr. Young/Deirdre Young, Crowley & The Them (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling, Harriet Dowling/Thaddeus J. Dowling, Nanny Ashtoreth & Brother Francis (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth & Deirdre Young, Nanny Ashtoreth & Harriet Dowling, Nanny Ashtoreth & Warlock Dowling, Warlock Dowling & Adam Young, Warlock Dowling & The Them (Good Omens)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 265
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	1. In Which Harriet Dowling Tries to Parent and Not Successfully

**Author's Note:**

> This wouldn't be as fun or coherent without the major help (and support) from my beta  mllekurtz and the amazing work from  cheese whose phenomenal art is the actual story. That's how it be, sometimes. 
> 
> Written for the Good Omens Big Bang, thank you mods for doing such a great job putting everything together!

In one universe, the derailing of the Apocalypse is brought about by one boy who loves his human father very much, his friends, his new witchy neighbor and her new maybe boyfriend, and a rebel demon and angel going against the orders of Hell and Heaven, respectively, because sushi (and other things) are more important to them than the glory of winning the millennia long war between the first of God’s - that is to say, _my_ \- children.

In other universes, there are other players to take into account who are no less important to any narrative one may consider the truth. Although to be fair, I do have my favorites, just like anybody else.

* * *

**Characters:**

_Demons_ :

Crowley: A demon posing as an Anti Mary Poppins Nanny for aesthetic reasons 

Hellhound: Is a hellhound, but is still cute and a very good girl

_Angels:_

Aziraphale: An angel of the Lord who is absolutely not a cult member but is definitely a gardener regardless of what any demons say 

_Humans_ :

Harriet Dowling: A Mum who used to be aiming for political office before the patriarchy got in the way

Warlock Downling: An adorable child who may or may not be the Antichrist 

Deirdre Young: A Mum who had done this before and now is the most wonderful being you've ever met

Arthur Young: A Dad in the running for most typical English dad behavior, third year running 

Adam Young: An adorable child who may or may not be the Antichrist

Morgan Sherwood: A Stepmum and social activist and the Ultimate feminist 

Priscilla Sherwood: A Mum and social activist. Majored in Feminism and Sociology with a Minor in Middle Earth literature

Pepper Sherwood: An adorable child who may or may not be the next political tyrant 

Brian: An adorable child who may or may not be the most adorable 

Aunt Lizzy: Brian's aunt

Jessica Wensleydale: A Mum who is a lawyer and very bad at math

Janice Wensleydale: A Mum who is a writer and very bad at math 

Jeremy Wensleydale: An adorable child who is frighteningly good at math 

Thaddeus Dowling: Potentially a Parent 

* * *

Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t have many days off from the Dowling residence, but when she did, Harriet Dowling tried her very best to fill in the metaphorical rather large snakelike practical shoes and take care of her son, Warlock. The boy was turning two soon and Harriet wanted to go out and get a present all on her own and what better time to bond with her son than a shopping trip for gifts? Any toddler would love that sort of outing, right?

So maybe Harriet wasn’t ready for motherhood when Thaddeus got her pregnant and maybe all those parenting magazines had sent her panicking until the words blurred and her chest felt fit to burst because she was hyperventilating and unable to breathe, but the worst part of the process of childbirth was over and she should be able to bond and love her child and know exactly what they wanted at any given point in time. That’s what her mother had told her before Harriet was dragged out of the States for Thaddeus’ work after Warlock had been born.

Harriet thinks constantly that her mother must have lied to her. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but Harriet thought that they were rather past that point in their relationship seeing how she had moved out at the age of 18 and never looked back. Except for weekly check in calls because that was _expected_. Many things were expected of Harriet Dowling and frankly after 22 months of living in a foreign country, trapped in a mansion with staff that was there to make sure she didn’t ruin Thaddeus’ reputation in England while he spent months on end living on the couch of the President of the United States, she was positively sick of _expectations_.

“Come now, Warlock.” She bounced the squirming toddler in the throes of his infamous temper tantrums on her hip just as Nanny Ashtoreth showed her, but he just kept screaming in the middle of the toy store. 

“Don wanna! Don wanna!” Warlock wailed, “I wanna go home, want Nanny!” It was so _hard_ , Harriet thought, being a mother who never wanted to be a mother. Because she wanted Nanny too, because Nanny always knew what to do and didn’t make Harriet feel stupid and selfish anytime she dumped Warlock on her when Harriet needed to get out and get fresh air, and not feel so confined by the soirees, the endless crowds, and judging stares she got from everyone else.

It wasn’t _fair_.

“Please be quiet, Warlock,” Harriet said with as much calm as she could muster — which to young Warlock must not have been enough because his cries renewed louder than before. “Warlock, quiet! That’s enough! No more screaming or you won’t get anything!” And Nanny would be so disappointed in Harriet right now, because her voice had raised against Warlock and Nanny always said yelling was a sign that you were losing control of the situation. Harriet never thought she would be one of those mothers who ever raised a hand against her children like her own mother — not that she had ever really thought about being a mother — but people kept staring at the spectacle that was a grown woman who may have been recognized had she gone to a store in London central instead of in the suburbs, Warlock kept screaming, she could barely hear her own thoughts with the way her chest was pounding in her ears, her palms itched and burned where she held Warlock, she could feel everyone’s _eyes_ on her and she _just wanted everything to shut up_.

For a blessed moment everything was. Her arms felt lighter and she felt freer than when she packed her bags and left for college in Washington DC from Indiana and she didn’t have any obligations except to her own dreams.

The moment was shattered with an ear-piercing wail and the cloud that fogged her vision was replaced by Warlock weeping, staring up at her from the floor of the toy store, her arms limp at her sides.

_Oh, no_. “Oh no, oh no, no, no, I’m sorry, Warlock, sorry, baby, _shit_.” The tabloids would be having a field day if they could see her now, kneeling on the ground with a toddler, both crying, one with pudgy arms trying to reach up and the other scared to lay hands on them.

How could she have been so stupid? Who drops their kid even while having a temper tantrum? What if he was hurt? His legs broken and he would hate her forever for being the one mum who managed to cripple their toddler for life in a bloody _toy store_. 

“Ey there. Come now,there’s no need for all those tears.” Harriet felt fingers lightly tap her shoulders, which only caused her distress to rise further because _having people see her_ , oh God. She didn’t want people to see how incompetent she was, how thin and fragile and useless she’d become after marrying Thaddeus and expecting to be a mother full time.

“Shhh, there you go. Look, the little one is all quiet now. First child right? They can be such a handful, could tell you stories about my eldest. Absolute terror she was, still a terror in school if her letters are to be believed .” Slowly, too slowly, Harriet pulled herself together. Sitting on the ground next to her was another woman, idly playing with Warlock on the ground with one hand. Pulled next to her was a shopping cart where another child sat silently, glaring around the aisle. Weirdly enough, she could see no one else was around or even peeking in their direction to see the very strange sight of two women and two babies hanging out on the floor of a toy store. 

“Well, there you are!” The woman said as Harriet blinked her eyes and looked around. “How do you feel, love?”

“Um, fine? I think.” Harriet’s tongue felt heavy and hard to move to form the words she needed to say. “Can I — where’s Warlock?”

“Oh! This little tyke?” She guided one of Harriet’s hands down to Warlock who immediately latched on to start clambering over her, his face wet and splotchy and eyes red from crying. Harriet - even though she was afraid - clutched onto Warlock tighter. “Such a good kid,” she prattled on as Harriet checked over Warlock with hesitant fingers. “Just a little rambunctious, that one is.”

It didn’t look like Warlock was hurt anywhere, not to Harriet, but what did she know? She was completely unfit to be a mother. The thick tendrils of shame that she had been avoiding every time Nanny left grew, and to Harriet’s mortification, her eyes burned as her tears began anew.

_God, what would her mother say if she saw her now?_

“There, there, it’s going to be alright. Let out all those tears.” That wasn’t anything close to what Barbara Winternitz would say, yet somehow Harriet felt comforted by those words, enough to start crying harder than she ever remembered doing.

“You know,” Deirdre Young said as she continued to pat Harriet after her second crying and venting fest. Harriet wasn’t sure how, but Deirdre had managed to introduce herself and her baby Adam who was still sitting without fuss in the cart, babbling to baby Warlock who was sniffling the last of his own tears. “I’m glad my Arthur isn’t like your Thaddeus. Sounds like a right git, that one.”

“He’s not that bad,” Harriet protested weakly, using a spare handkerchief to dab away the tear stains to prevent the red splotches from spreading further on her face. “He’s just busy with work all the time — he has a very important job — and wants to be sure that Warlock grows up with a parent around.”

Deirdre’s left eyebrow vanished into her hairline. “Right then, and I suppose that’s why he’s only been back to England four times since Warlock here was born. 

“He’s very close with the President of the United States.”

“Real important that is.” Deirdre snorted. “Tell you what, I’ve got to run. But give me your mobile, I know it’s a bit of a drive, but come down to Tadfield next Thursday. The moms all get together and cry about our toddlers and you’d be welcome to join.” Before Harriet could protest, could make excuses about how busy she was and how long the drive was, Deirdre took Harriet’s phone and added her number to Harriet’s rather small contact list. “Come now Adam, say bye to Warlock. We’ll see him soon.”

“Bye-bye.” Adam waved from his seat in the cart. “See soon.” Adam stared at Harriet as he was pushed away, blue eyes echoing with the a _ges of ancient times gone past and clamor of bells in victorious battles and ashes of fires spread across the_ \- she blinked and promptly forgot her train of thought.

“Bye.” Warlock said sadly. Harriet took a deep breath and picked Warlock up.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Nanny?”

“Yeah, Nanny for the both of us. We can get new toys later.” 

[( _art by Cheese)_](https://gottagobuycheese.tumblr.com/post/190506298177/heres-the-artwork-for-chapter-1-of-mothers-take)

It took Harriet the better part of an hour to drive back home, might have been faster if she didn’t get stuck in traffic off the highway. Warlock stayed quiet up until the last fifteen minutes where he began fussing in his car seat, anxious to get out and find something to grab his attention like all toddlers.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” Warlock said as the car parked in the garage attached to the manor.

Harriet wished she knew what to say in these sorts of situations but she was certain that reassuring Warlock that it was fine and letting him scamper to his bedroom may not have been the correct response. She would need to get out of the car at some point as well… otherwise the staff would talk.

Her head thumped against the steering wheel and all Harriet wanted to do was tilt her seat back, curl up in a small ball, and tune out the rest of the world.

“Now then, what’s all this?”

In the quarter second Harriet had closed her eyes, someone had entered her car and settled into the passenger seat without her ever hearing the car door open. She might have been more freaked out if she didn’t recognize the accented timber of voice.

“Hi, Nanny Ashtoreth,” Harriet said into the steering wheel. “I was just closing my eyes for a moment.”

“Darling, it’s been close to half an hour. Someone knows I’ve napped in my car for hours before, but that also means I know how uncomfortable it can be for your neck.” For all Nanny Ashtoreth sounded like she was pushing Harriet out of the car, she lounged on the seat, legs uncharacteristically splayed out in a way Harriet had never seen prim and proper (and weird) Nanny Ashtoreth sit. “So, what seems to be bothering you?”

“Why must something be bothering me?” Harriet bit back too quickly and cringed when Nanny Ashtoreth only raised her eyebrow, waiting for Harriet to speak. 

Of course, she couldn’t end today with any bit of her pride left. Nanny didn’t have to say anything but Harriet’s breath hitched and a fresh new wave of tears started pouring out of her eyes. And here she thought she had been all cried out for the week. With the tears, words also came out like a flood, bitter and fragile, Harriet wept out her frustrations, loneliness, inadequacy, and hurt to Nanny Ashtoreth, who pulled Harriet to her shoulder and let her vent everything out.

“I did meet someone in the shop today.” Harriet blew her nose into the fourth handkerchief Nanny has given her. “Deirdre Young. Invited me out to hang out with her friends this week as a mom’s support group.”

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t, ‘I’m definitely going’, then I don’t want to hear it, Harriet.” Nanny Ashtoreth threw the handkerchief out the window, just as she had the other three, claiming to be leaving it there for the Gardener to pick up to keep the bucktoothed lump busy. “You deserve to go out and meet new people and new friends and not just hole yourself up in the mansion.”

“But Thaddeus —”

“Fuck Mr. Dowling and his peanut sized brain,” Nanny Ashtoreth stated without hesitation. “I mean, you did fuck him for sure, but not that fuck him. For now, I guess. If you pardon my language, ma’am. Mr. Dowling is, as the Americans like to say, a giant prick. He shouldn’t be allowed to tell you what to do at anytime, but especially since he’s only seen you and Warlock twice since I’ve started working here. Terrible.” 

“It’s expected, Nanny!” Harriet protested. “He’s an important diplomat and -“

“That man could be God for all he likes and I would still say the same.” Nanny’s voice dropped, and though Harriet Dowling was not aware, if she had listened carefully, she would have heard the threatening hissing cloaking Nanny Ashtoreth’s words. “A parent doesn’t willingly abandon their children, no matter how important they may be or how many arguments there are. If they can’t take care of the child, they should at least make sure they’re taken care of.”

“Thaddeus didn’t abandon Warlock, Nanny,” Harriet whispered. “He left me to take care of him. And you.”

“Exactly, my dear. But he abandoned you all the same and left you scrambling to hold yourself above a precipice and no harness.” Nanny patted Harriet’s face dry. “You are entirely capable, Mrs. Harriet Dowling. And I imagine that even if you didn’t have the staff helping you with Warlock, you would have managed somehow. But you would have lost yourself being all alone with very little emotional support from your husband.”

“I don’t think I could have.” Harriet mumbled after a pregnant pause. “Been able to take care of Warlock by myself, I mean. Not where he would be happy.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to think about that then, isn’t it?” Nanny Ashtoreth opened the passenger door and motioned Harriet to follow her out. “So, what day did this Mrs. Young say we’d be meeting her?”

Nanny Ashtoreth - Crowley - didn’t sleep that night after putting Warlock to bed and singing him his nightly lullabies about trampling the Earth with his hooves of destruction — “ _no hooves, Nanny! No hooves” , “hush, dearie, you’ll grow into them someday.”_ Crowley didn’t mind Harriet Dowling, for sure she _wasn’t_ a great mother -anyone with eyes could see that - but at least she made some attempts unlike Thaddeus Dowling. Crowley didn’t like the patriarch of the family one bit and had made her feelings quite clear to anyone who would listen. Mostly Aziraphale, who spent his days ~~not~~ taking care of the garden as the family Gardener.

Thaddeus had left Harriet in a new country, far from her old friends and family and isolated in the countryside surrounded by security guards tasked with monitoring Harriet and Warlock to make sure no harm would befoul them. Stupid, couldn’t anyone see that the danger was all internal? Harriet was well on her way crashing and three steps away from burning herself and everything Thaddeus had forced her into, including Warlock. She tried her best, but Crowley knew from experience how hard it was just making oneself _function_ when everything was so hopeless.

It was a good thing Warlock was the Antichrist so Crowley and Aziraphale would have a reason to watch the lad because otherwise the Earth was toast due to a neglectful, socially inept all-powerful child of Satan. Or a premature dead one, since hardly anyone outside the Nanny and Gardner paid any attention to a rambunctious two-year old.

(But maybe not? Maybe someone would have noticed and stepped in? Maybe someone would have noticed the child -supernatural or not - and noticed how no one seemed to care about this precious little rascal except a demon and an angel who were only there to prevent the end of the world?)

Crowley only took days off when she needed to go make her reports to Hell in person; she wasn’t sure why they couldn’t accept her reports via the usual blood sacrifice[1] and video recording, but it was probably just to make her life harder. That was how Hell showed its appreciation to its employees.

Usually when Nanny Ashtoreth was gone, Harriet was content to let Warlock entertain himself and step in when she absolutely needed to — i.e. when Warlock threw a big enough temper tantrum. (Crowley was especially pleased by the lung capacity of young Warlock - a good pair of lungs to order the minions about, she would tell Aziraphale. And then promptly ignore how she would be one of those minions when the Antichrist came into his powers.) It was rather odd for her to take initiative and bring Warlock with her to the store for a treat of all things.

But Nanny Ashtoreth or Crowley wouldn’t complain. Not when it got Harriet Dowling a date to hang out with other people not on her husband’s payroll or power-hungry sleaze-balls out to play politics with the Ambassador to the United States.

_That was the worst part though_ — _is that Harriet Winternitz would have been a brilliant politician in her own right, could have ran for President and been a bloody good one if Thaddeus Dowling didn’t drag and tie her down to his own whims._

Nanny Ashtoreth will go with Harriet Dowling to Tadfield — back in Tadfield, what a coincidence — to meet this Deirdre Young and her friends. She’d keep an eye on the kids and Harriet and judge from there whether or not it would be worth it to continue the correspondence. It would be nice for Warlock to play with some children his own age - only being surrounded by adults could not be good for the child’s developmental growth; Crowley had heard it said on the radio some time ago.

Crowley wondered what Aziraphale would say about this new development. Probably along the lines of _it’s ineffable_. He always did.

* * *

[1] Blood sacrifice in this case meant Crowley substituted the juice of beetroot for the blood connection; apparently it was vile enough to count.


	2. In Which Parents All Complain to Each Other and Have A Nice Time Doing So, Supposedly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by the lovely mllekurtz  for if I had been without, I'm not sure how readable this would have been.

_“Hallo, this is Deirdre!”_

_“Hello, yes, Mrs. Young? My name is Nanny Ashtoreth.”_

_“Er, a pleasure but I’m afraid I don’t know a nanny Ashtoreth, how did you get my number?”_

_“I’m calling on behalf of Harriet Dowling, you met with her the other day in the toy store?”_

_“Right! Er, may I ask why you’re calling for her?”_

_“Oh, that’s because she’s having a meltdown over whether or not to bring wine on Thursday if that’s still an open offer.”_

_“Nanny!”_ Deirdre could hear in the background. “ _You didn’t have to say it like that! And I was going to call!”_

_“No, you weren’t, dearie.”_ Nanny’s voice had a strange timber, the longer Deirdre listened to it, the more pronounced it became. _“So, that’s the reason for the call, Mrs. Young. What say you?”_

_“Well, of course! Bring some white wine, Priscilla gets migraines with reds. And be there by 2:00 pm, that’s when the kids go outside for a bit before their nap.”_

_“Excellent. We’ll both be there at two precisely.”_

Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t wait for a response[1] before ending the call by snapping the mobile shut; it knew better than to complain that it wasn’t a flip mobile device and was in fact a top of the line smartphone that an ordinary nanny would never be able to afford from their paycheque even if they were employed by rich Americans. 

“And that’s how it’s done,” Nanny said as she dropped the mobile in the pocket of her skirt[2]. Sitting mortified next to her, with her head in her hands, Harriet muttered something about ruined reputations which Nanny Ashtoreth ignored. “I’ll go see to Warlock now, you go ahead and get that wine.” She stood and walked to the manor leaving Harriet to her own thoughts.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for the Antichrist to go around other children?” From the doorway with a dozing Warlock in his hands, the gardener, Brother Francis, also known as the angel Aziraphale, stood waiting. Dirt covered his clothes as always, at which Nanny Ashtoreth scrunched her nose in distaste; Warlock would definitely need another bath before bedtime.

“As opposed to what? Only letting him be around adults? Us?” Crowley took Warlock from Aziraphale, practiced hands cradling the toddler as to not wake him from his nap.

“No!” Aziraphale protested — for some reason Aziraphale had dropped that ridiculous accent, Crowley notices. Not that she’s complaining because _why did she ever put up with it in the first place, it’s been two years?_ “But what if the other kids… make fun of him or bully him?”

Behind dark sunglasses, golden slitted eyes stared unblinkingly at the angel posing as a gardener. “You’re worried,” Crowley said slowly, “that the _Antichrist_ — Satan’s own hellspawn — will be… bullied? By other _two-year-olds_?”

“Warlock is a sensitive child!” Azirpahale protested. “Just today he almost started crying about accidentally kicking a rock away from it’s home while we were in the garden!”

“He’s the Antichrist who can wrap reality around his little pinky and turn us all into dust mites, angel. I don’t think we have to be worried about toddlers being mean to him.” Crowley broke her gaze with Aziraphale to glance down at the dozing Warlock in her arms. “Besides, I’ll be there watching over him as always.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m not worried about your demonic influence corrupting him even further.” Aziraphale sniffed.

“Oh please, you can take plenty of time to saturate the kid in angelic horrors when we return. It’s not like you couldn’t turn invisible and come with us to Tadfield.”

“Yes, well no, that would be rude, Crowley! I wasn’t invited!”

“Nanny! Brother Francis!” Harriet called from the doorway. “I’m heading out now.” Nanny took a sniff, letting the emotions in the room wash over her and smiled, teeth hidden for now behind her lips. Sensing the primal emotions had always been a great boon for a demon sent to Earth to tempt humans into damnation.

“Farewell, dear! Don’t stop for those slow idiots on the road,” Nanny Ashtoreth called back, stroking Warlock as he slowly shifted awake from the loud noises around him. If she had been any more snakelike, her tongue would have flickered out in anticipation.

“What’s suddenly gotten into you?” Aziraphale asked, accent fully back in place as Nanny’s smile only widened when Harriet closed the door behind her.

“Nothing too serious.” Nanny Ashtoreth turned and started gliding up the banisters on the stairs towards Warlock’s room. “Just that our lovely Harriet Dowling is finally excited about something.” Scared, yes - Crowley could almost taste Harriet’s fear of embarrassment and shame, but even that was underlined with elation and curiosity.

_Good_.

* * *

Thursday couldn’t come quick enough and yet Harriet felt that barely any time had gone before she was helping Nanny Ashtoreth bundle Warlock and his toys into the vehicle getting ready to drive to Tadfield. Nanny had packed a bagful of Warlock’s favorite toys — “For which you must share with your future minions, Lord Warlock, otherwise they will not fully respect you as you deserve.” — and Harriet and grabbed the wine along with some biscuits she found at the store and the three of them were on their way with Nanny driving.

“Fast, Nanny, fast!” Warlock cheered from his carseat, one hand holding Trixie, his pet dinosaur decorated with a tutu Nanny Ashtoreth had glared at until it fit the hips of a toy model of an extinct creature properly. His other hand held Bruce the Barbie doll Brother Francis had given Warlock as a gift one day. Nanny Ashtoreth had to give as many baths to the doll as she did Warlock with how many times Warlock dragged the poor thing through the gardens[3]. 

“If I go any faster, Warlock, your mum may actually try to strangle me with the seat-belt before we even get on the highway.” Or try to open the wine bottle with her bare hands and chug it straight down with how often Harriet kept glancing at the bag on her lap.

“Zoom, zoom!”

“How about we just turn around, Nanny?” Harriet’s fingers twitched. “Obviously a bad idea, I’m definitely not feeling up to this. Can we call and reschedule?”

“No, dearie.” Harriet wasn’t sure how the car jumped up in speed as she thought Nanny’s foot had already been pressed all the way to the floor on the accelerator, but she watched as the car started pushing 140 miles per hour on the ramp to the highway, right past a police officer who barely had time to raise a hand before their car was just a spec in the mirror. “You’ve already spoken to Ms. Deirdre several times, lovely conversations, if your squealing afterwards is anything to go by.”

“But that’s on the phone! It’s different in person.” Harriet mumbled weakly. “What if she - they - don’t like me? What if I say the wrong things and they think I’m just that bizarre American girl who can’t function without her husband?”

“Your husband would have to be around, first of all,” Nanny said dryly, zipping past several more cars while half paying attention on the road to glare at Harriet. “You never worry about these sort of things when you need to entertain for Mr. Dowling’s business partners.”

“Well, that’s because it’s Thaddeus’ friends. I know they barely remember my name or why they even needed to come to the estate when Thaddeus is across the pond.”

“With the amount of brain cells they collectively have, it’s a wonder they remember their own names,” Nanny snarked under her breath. Harriet, who most definitely heard her sitting only several feet away, pretended that Nanny hadn’t said a word.

“And Deirdre is quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever spoken to — not counting you, Nanny.” Harriet also ignored Nanny Ashtoreth’s snarl that she _wasn’t_ nice, please never say anything like that ever again, thank you very much. “She _volunteers_ at animal shelters, Nanny.”

“Yes, you’ve told me, dear.”

Nanny listened to Harriet gush about Deirdre Young for the rest of the trip over, interjecting at the proper moments to show she was still listening.

~~_She desperately ignored how Harriet reminded Crowley so much of herself - especially just after the Fall_.~~

All too soon for Harriet’s stress levels - and far too long for Nanny’s patience, hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses - the car pulled to a stop outside a perfectly ordinary looking home in the middle of the Tadfield township.

“Adam! Adam!” Warlock bubbled from the back seat, arms waving frantically at the small, wide-eyed figure who had opened the front door. Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t think that Warlock ever knew Adam’s name… but it must be some sort of Antichrist thing[4].

“Go on, Ms. Dowling.” Nanny Ashtoreth nudged Harriet out of her seat. “Take little Lord Warlock to his friend. I’ll be right behind you.”

“It’s _Mrs_. Dowling, Nanny. You know that,” Harriet muttered as she slowly unbuckled Warlock from his car seat with shaking hands.

“When Thaddeus can prove to me that he actually exists and isn’t just a figment of pixels on a screen, then I’ll know it.”

“You’ve seen him before!” Harriet hissed with Warlock held comfortably in her arms — _was it only comfortable because Nanny was here next to her and could save Warlock if something happened?_ and the snacks and drinks in Nanny’s.

Nanny shrugged, unable to hide a small smirk growing on her lips in mirth at Harriet’s protestations.

“Harriet!” Deirdre Young stepped out of her doorway, carefully pushing her small son to the side. “You’re here right on time!”

“Mum, I want down!” Warlock squirmed, eager to go run to his absolute new best friend, Adam.

“It’s nice to see you again, Warlock,” Deirdre said as Harriet gently lowered Warlock, who scampered as soon as his feet touched the ground, throwing a quick distracted “hi” over his shoulder.

“He’s been super excited since we piled in the car.” Harriet turned to Deirdre with a practiced smile, all traces of nerves vanishing behind a mask Nanny Ashtoreth liked to call Harriet’s ‘politician smile’[5]. “Thank you again for inviting me — us — over. I really appreciate it.”

“No need to get all formal on me now, Harriet.” Deirdre laughed, pulling Harriet into a hug as she came closer. “Come on inside, we’re still waiting on the Wensleydales to drop in.”

“Here, dears.” Nanny dropped the wine and biscuits in Harriet and Deirdre’s arms. “I’ll watch the tykes while you lot gossip away.”

“Oh, you must be Nanny Ashtoreth!” Deirdre gasped gleefully, trying to wrangle Nanny into a hug with her arms full of wine bottles.

“In the flesh,” Nanny said as she slipped away rather serpent-like from Deirdre with a smile tight on her face.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to come inside first? We can grab the kids for a bit first and get everything settled.”

“Of course I’ll be fine.” It was what was expected from a Nanny after all. “It looks like these little tykes are already having a grand time out here. No need to interrupt their fun.”

“Can’t argue with that logic. Adam, you be good for Nanny Ashtoreth, you hear! I’ll let the others know they can send their kids out as well.” Deirdre managed to land a pat on Nanny Ashtoreth’s arm before heading inside with Harriet. Nanny gave a small wave to Harriet as she walked away with one last glance at Warlock.

“Excuse me, Ms. Nanny.” It was Deirdre’s kid, Adam — and didn’t that name ring of nostalgia? “But your name really isn’t Ashtoreth, is it?” Nanny stilled, the way little Adam had said that… it hadn’t been a question, not one an ordinary toddler would utter as if he already knew the answer.

“I have a lot of names, little one,” Nanny said carefully, looking Adam in the eye. “Nanny Ashtoreth just happens to be the one I’m using now.”

“Oh, well that’s alright then.” After a long moment, Adam turned away. “Come on, Warlock! Play time! The others will be here soon!”

“Okay! Nanny?” Warlock paused to grab Nanny’s skirt. “Can you tell me about the names before bedtime?” he whispered.

“Of course, my little overlord,” she whispered back. “Now go play with your new friends and you can tell me all about it at bedtime.”

Nanny watched as Adam and Warlock were joined by other kids who immediately joined in their game of Kings and Dinosaurs, using the toys Warlock had brought as their soldiers, and thought.

Warlock didn’t show any signs of reality bending that Crowley or Aziraphale could pick up on back in the manor. But here in Tadfield, where the delivery had taken place, there was definitely something in the air. What exactly, Crowley couldn’t put her finger on but maybe, since he was so young, the place where he had been Named was the only location Warlock could have access to his abilities as an Antichrist?[6]

It would require further thought, but later. For now, Nanny Ashtoreth watched Warlock play around and wondered if Harriet was having as good of a time as she hoped she would.

* * *

Harriet was having a fantastic time and couldn’t recall a moment where she had been happier since moving to England from the States.

“So here I am, sleep deprived as anything, almost feeling high on the fumes of shrooms that Marcus was slowly killing his nonexistent brain cells with.” Priscilla Sherwood gestured wildly with a glass of wine held loosely in her hand. “And there goes Pepper, barely five months old and already having a great aim with throwing her toys against things she didn’t like. And what she didn’t like was Marcus smoking inside with a vengeance.”

The adults sitting on the couch in the living room of the Young’s residence all laughed, Harriet included.

“She hasn’t stopped throwing things when she feels its deserved.” Morgan Sherwood groaned, rubbing her arm where a faint bruise lay.

“Sounds like she’d be a good prime minister with that sort of work ethic,” Harriet remarked, relaxed among the other parents who didn’t see her as Harriet Dowling, trophy wife of the prestigious Thaddeus Dowling, but as Harriet, a young mother trying to figure out her place in England without her husband.

“Weren’t you in some political study in Uni, Harriet?” Deirdre asked as she leaned against her husband Arthur, who was part of this party to function specifically as Deirdre’s pillow, ignoring most of the conversation around him to read his magazine about motor cars.

The Young’s living room was cozy and spacious enough for the parents gathered, sitting lazily around on the couches while the children played outside with Nanny Ashtoreth. Deirdre and Arthur sat next to each other on the couch with Harriet perched between Deirdre and the cushion on the end of the couch. Janice and Jessica with a brilliant son named Jeremy who preferred to be called by last name, curled around one another on the armchair, across the living room from Harriet, while Priscilla and her second — and better wife, she stated proudly during the introductions — Morgan shared the second armchair but spread out with their legs hanging over the edge and stretched to the arm of Harriet’s side of the couch. Everyone had a glass of wine in their hands and Harriet couldn’t help but compare how much _nicer_ it was to drink with people who had been strangers only less than an hour ago, than the politicians she had to play nice with for Thaddeus’ sake even though she had known them for years.

“Political Science with an environmental science minor, yes,” Harriet replied. “I had wanted to work for the state office, but,” she shrugged, careful not to spill her wine, “I ended up getting married and shipped to the UK.”

Silence enveloped the room, but it wasn’t one of mocking disbelief that Harriet feared every time she spoke of her past ambitions.

“Deirdre, dear,” Morgan said sharply, “please cover Arthur’s ears.”

“No need, darling,” Deirdre smiled. “Arthur has been educated.”

“Bloody archaic patriarchy,” Arthur stated obediently, his eyes never leaving his magazine.

Janice nearly fell off her armchair laughing and would have dropped her wine glass if her more serious looking wife hadn’t grabbed the glass, with a roll of her eyes. “Ha! Arthur — you — cursing!” She snorted between peals of laughter.

“Why are you always like this?” Jessica sighed fondly. “Barely one glass of wine, honestly.”

Morgan ignored them, eyes locked on Harriet’s as her socked toes poked at Harriet’s arm on the sofa. “Harriet. I know we’ve only just begun our epic friendship, but I am about to share the most important advice I know. Are you prepared?”

Wide-eyed, Harriet nodded.

“There are some people,” Morgan said solemnly, “who are terrible, entitled, pieces of shit who think they deserve the world because they are somehow _special_. And they expect everyone else around them to cater to their desires for no other reason. And when you do meet these people, kick ‘em where it hurts and—”

“Morgan!”

“I was going to say run!” Morgan pouted at Priscilla, who shared a look of long time suffering with Jessica and rolled her eyes.

“Nanny Ashtoreth says the same thing.” If possible, Harriet’s eyes grew wider, at the thought of Nanny being right — not that she had ever been _wrong_ in the time Harriet had known her — and of Thaddeus, well Thaddeus being as incompetent as Nanny always claimed he was. Or the wine was getting to her head because she shouldn’t be feeling this happy being told Thaddeus was wrong by people who had never even met him.

Whatever. Harriet didn’t want to think about Thaddeus now, not with these wonderful people making her laugh in a way she hadn’t since college.

“Oh, someone else is copying my advice?” Nanny stood in the doorway, four children crowding around her legs and another child ducking their head on her shoulder in her arms. “Maybe now it’ll stick.”

“Regardless,” she continued, shifting slightly to avoid tripping over the excited children pulling at her skirts. “This little one came toddling down the lane without anyone —”

“Oh, not again.” Deirdre moaned, moving to untangle herself from Arthur’s and Harriet’s limbs on the couch. “I’ll call Lizzy and let her know Brian wandered off here.”

“Does this happen often?” Nanny asked, gripping the child — Brian — tighter as if she were two words away from taking him with her back to London. All around the room were shrugs.

“Can’t say any of us are close with Lizzy to say for sure.” Jessica sighed. “Not even before her brother died and she took Brian in a few months ago.”

“Want to play with Adam, Pep, Dale, and Lock,” Brian huffed, sounding tired even to Harriet’s ears.

“Yes, so you said. Doesn’t mean you go wandering off without telling someone. Or walk for so long that now you’re too tired to play.” Nanny patted Brian’s head fondly, sitting down on the floor to set him down, both immediately surrounded by the rest of the kids. Harriet saw Warlock piling on with the rest of them, cuddling contently partially on Nanny’s lap.

Janice whistled softly. “Dang, how do you still look so dignified sitting on the floor like a beanbag for toddlers, Nanny Ashtoreth?”

Nanny snorted. “What dignity? It’s all in the posture, dear.”

“Oh, that’s so adorable,” Deirdre cooed a few minutes later once she finished her phone call. Pepper, Brian, and Jeremy had dozed off, while Adam and Warlock weren’t too far behind, blinking rapidly trying to keep themselves awake with a stubborn streak only toddlers possessed. Nanny Ashtoreth had pulled out a book — something about Astrology — and was reading quietly. Pulling out her mobile, Deirdre snapped a picture, Adam turning his head to stare at the camera, while Warlock finally succumbed to nap time.

“How was your phone call?” Nanny Ashtoreth turned a page of her book — where had she even been hiding that? Harriet hadn’t seen her pack a purse or anything this morning — while one hand stroked Brian’s hair almost possessively.

_Despite the light fog brought from the wine, Harriet remembered a conversation with Nanny and people who abandoned children_ — _and that Nanny did not look upon those people fondly._

“Apparently he was supposed to be sleeping and crawled out of his crib when she was cooking.” Deirdre slipped back on the couch between her husband and Harriet, making sure to avoid moving the other occupants of the couch as she made herself comfortable again. “No idea how he was able to open the doors or climb over of the dog gate without anyone noticing, but that’s what happened.”

“Huh.” Nanny said eloquently, glancing down at the sleeping children on her lap. And if her eyes honed in on Warlock, well, she had been taking care of him for years, there was nothing strange about that.

* * *

“So how did it go?” Aziraphale asked Crowley hours later once Harriet and Nanny had made their goodbyes with promises of at least weekly visits, drove back to the Dowling Manor, mollified Warlock that he would be seeing his new best friends soon and then sent him to bed after dinner.

Harriet had been giddy the whole car ride home, her eyes bright with a happy fervor Crowley had never seen before in the other woman. Warlock had been loud and eager to turn the car around and go right back to the Young’s residence. It had taken Nanny longer than usual trying to get him to sit down to eat his dinner of potatoes, zucchini, and wild rice and even longer to get him to sleep in his crib.

( _“You’re getting to big for this now, My Overlord. Soon you’ll be sleeping in your own big bed and maybe you won’t want Nanny’s lullabies.”_

_“No, don’t stop!”_

_“Hmm. But Lord Warlock has not yet gone to bed even though Nanny has sung him three songs. Maybe these lullabies aren’t working any more.”_

_“Sing one more!”_

_“Oh, very well. How could I say no to my Little Lord?”_

_He never did ask about the names, but her little Hellspawn was brilliant. He would remember exactly when he needed to, so Nanny didn’t bring it up.)_

“It went well.” Crowley said after a pregnant pause. “Much better than expected actually.” The two were sitting in the hut the Dowlings let Brother Francis — and by extension Nanny Ashtoreth when she didn’t sleep in the room close to Warlock’s — stay in on the edge of the grounds. Aziraphale had asked Crowley to come as soon as Harriet retired for the night, bribing the demon with wine. Not that Crowley wouldn’t have told Aziraphale everything regardless. “You might actually get a chance to see the little tykes. We’ve planned weekly meetings with each parent hosting. It’s quite nice.”

“You mean more children will be coming _here_?” Aziraphale flailed and would have spilled wine on his clothes if not for a quick miracle to keep the glass from tipping any direction while in his hands. For all that Aziraphale was the more angelic of the two, he had never possessed Crowley’s gifts for handling children or people in general. He preferred his books and keeping to himself, performing miracles for his comfort. He had mostly agreed to this raising the Antichrist plan with the notion that his involvement would be minimal apart from spreading what Good he could as the gardener.[7] Actually taking care of and entertaining children were still rather out of his skill set. 

“Don’t look so nervous, Angel. I’ll be sure to give you extra warning before that happens.” Crowley snickered into her drink.

“Please do,” Aziraphale huffed. “Goodness knows I still might go and hide. Children are terrifying.”

“They’re really rather simple once you get down to it. But, you’ll be pleased to note that Warlock did show off some of his… Antichristness today. Nothing big, but it still happened.” At Aziraphale’s encouraging nod, Crowley explained her time in Tadfield: the car ride over, watching and playing with Adam and Warlock and then Jeremy and Pepper once they arrived, how her heart dropped when a toddler (Brian) came waddling up the street by _himself_ , and how relieved she felt finding Harriet enjoying herself with the other adults.

“She’s looking into maybe going back to school,” Crowley added at the end. “Get that higher ed and maybe go to work once Warlock is older.” She knew Harriet wasn’t ready to do it without running it by Thaddeus first and that Thaddeus would most likely discourage her… but at least it was a start.

“Crowley, dear. Don’t you think…” Aziraphale swallowed heavily. He hadn’t said anything as Crowley reported the day’s events but he noticed the fond smile Crowley got as he spoke about the children and Harriet.

“Don’t I think what, Angel?”

“Don’t you think you’ve grown too attached to them?” He didn’t bother clarifying who ‘them’ was supposed to be.

“No.” Crowley lied.[8]

_She was extremely attached and wouldn’t change it for the world._

* * *

[1] Hanging up without saying goodbye was one of Crowley’s more demonic inventions if one were to ask an angelic bookshop keeper. This specific angel would be sure to teach the antichrist NOT to follow in rude behaviors of their demonic counterpart.

[2] Like all of Nanny’s pockets, it knew better than to have a limit of things it could hold though they looked very small and impractical.

[3] There had been one instance where Warlock showed off his doll to his father over video conference and he had raised his voice to the confused one and a half year old about being a real man. Crowley still had a screenshot of the horror on Thaddeus’ face as his confused one and a half year old declared real men to be dumb and wandered away to cook a delicious meal on his play kitchen, the Barbie doll taking its place as the first course of the night.

[4] Nanny Ashtoreth wasn’t wrong about it being an Antichrist thing. But she may have miscalculated which child recently watched a morning broadcast about a group of friends who already knew each other’s names without any proper introductions from their parents.

[5] It was almost terrifying how quickly Harriet could switch from “mother falling apart at the seams” mode to “cutthroat business lady with degrees on how to make grown men cry”. It was one of the few reasons why Crowley believed Harriet Dowling was sent to England to make sure she couldn’t take over the President’s position in the States.*

* No, Crowley did not actually know how the US figured out their leaders. If it was anything like Hell, it would just be the one who could wrangle all the demons into sitting still for at least three minutes to make a speech.

[6] Author’s Note: And here, gentlefolk and fancy humanoids, is what people like to call, peak dumbass logic thinking.

[7] Crowley was more than capable of showing Warlock how to be good and evil. Not that Aziraphale would ever let him know that he knew what a softie Crowley really was. Besides, not being as significant in the upbringing meant Aziraphale could simply spend time with Crowley and partake in one of his favorite pastimes: Crowley watching.

[8] Crowley really wasn’t good at lying, not to Aziraphale. The opposite also held true.


	3. In Which Kids Grow Up and Responsibility is Taken, Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, please give kudos to the real MVP, my beta mllekurtz  who is a saint for putting up with my shenanigans.

_9 Years Later:_

“What do you mean, you’re going out?” Thaddeus Dowling never did things quietly. No, Thaddeus Dowling thundered on the best of days and that fact had not changed in his time spent in Washington DC with the President of the United States. He was now in England more often than the States, but still traveled frequently and spoke with his family in quick snippets over the breakfast table. Once the old president — his president — had finished his term, the new administration had been pleased to have Thaddeus keep his current position as Cultural Attaché but told him rather strictly that he needed to use the office they procured for him in Central London instead of one of the guest rooms in the White House all of the time.

Thaddeus just knew Johnson, that skeezeball of a politician, was behind this. Bastard.

“I mean, I’m going out. I have plans which I’m not rescheduling.” Harriet sipped her coffee calmly, her laptop open in front of her with textbooks tossed neatly in a pile on the kitchen table. “Nanny will be dropping Warlock at his friends’ place since I have class at ten this morning, then I’ll be meeting with my advisor to discuss my dissertation 

“I still can’t believe we haven’t fired that woman yet.” Thaddeus grumbled into his own cup of coffee — he had never taken to the British obsession with tea, but Harriet had boxes of the stuff in the pantry that she used when studying. “And that you’ve gone back to school of all things.” Of all the stories and tales Thaddeus had been told by his own father when it came to marriage, having his own wife decide for herself to stay away from the house to get a PhD in Political Economics at some big name London University had not ever been a concern. What wife would ever want to leave her home, especially with a child to take care of?[1]

“Nanny Ashtoreth has been a part of this family for ten years, Thaddeus. I don’t see you offering to take care of Warlock if she leaves.”

“Warlock shouldn’t need a nanny any longer. He’s ten years old, for Pete’s sake! None of the other boys at his school have any nannies!”

“How would you know? Have you ever been to his school?” Harriet shot back at Thaddeus. “In fact, do you even know what school he is attending?”

“Course I do! I’m the one paying the bills for it, aren’t I? His school and yours!”

“Then what’s the name of his school? Who are his teachers?” Harriet very carefully closed her laptop shut. “Because I can tell you, Nanny Ashtoreth has personally met all of his teachers and vetted them ‘sufficient to teach Warlock general human studies’. Which is much more than I can say for you.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

At many points in their marriage, Harriet Dowling had been — not afraid, never afraid, she was much too proud for that — but hesitant to challenge Thaddeus, especially when it came to raising Warlock as ‘his’ legacy.

( _“Fat lot of legacy if he’s not here to raise him, is it?” Nanny had said, forever critical of Thaddeus Dowling for reasons Harriet never fully understood no matter how often Nanny tried to explain._

_“Honestly, yeah.” Jessica Wensleydale had nodded when it was brought up during their many weekly get-togethers. “My own parents tried that whole ‘legacy’ bullshit with me before I ditched them. Nothing more toxic than parents trying to control their children to fit their own image for societal gain. Just think, if we tried to do that with Jeremy, we would make sure he loathed anything harder than multiplication tables instead of becoming our potential future tax accountant.”_

_It was very hard to disagree with that logic as everyone in their group knew just how terrible Janice and Jessica both were at anything related to math while their son had taken to the subject like a duck to water.)_

Thaddeus had been staying longer and longer as Warlock got older, and Harriet realized how… how inadequate she and Thaddeus were as a couple when living together. Maybe it was because neither of them had thought to live with one another before getting married and having a kid, maybe it was the years apart afterwards.

Either way, Harriet now had Nanny — and also Deirdre, Morgan, Priscilla, Janice, and Jessica with the occasional Arthur butting in — to tell her in some form or way that she shouldn’t be relying on a husband who would rather spend all his time working and sleeping in his boss’ house, even if his boss was the President of the United States.

So, she had gone back to school when Warlock started going to primary, after Nanny almost kicked her for just fretting about the house day after day with nothing to do since her Tadfield Crew were all too busy working. And then she got hired by King’s College to be a teaching assistant at the start of her second semester. Somewhere along the way, Harriet found that… she didn’t really need Thaddeus anymore. Not emotionally, although the financial assistance was always appreciated.[2]

“I said what I said.” Harriet said, an odd giddiness spreading across her skin. _She didn’t need him_ , she reminded herself. “Now, I have a group of students I need to get ready to teach about political economy.”

She almost wished she could take a picture of Thaddeus’ face as she grabbed her things and walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

Warlock stood in the hallway outside of the kitchen, where he had been as still as possible for so long his knees were frozen in place. He had woken up for food but, well, the parents and more importantly, his Father were in there and Warlock didn’t know if he was ready for an early morning speech and lecture. Father had been back for a full month — the longest Warlock had ever seen him at one time, although he had some other trip to fly to in a week for an unknown amount of time.

It was weird. Warlock did love his dad, or at least his idea of Thaddeus Dowling, which really seemed more like Adam’s dad in his imagination if he sat down and thought about it. But ever since he had been back, it was like he decided missing out of the first eleven years of Warlock’s life was no big deal and now he kept trying to urge Warlock into considering politics.

Somehow, it was different from Nanny’s constant claims of leadership in Hell, but Warlock wasn’t quite sure how.

_Me:_

_Is it bad that I preferred it when my father_

_Wasn’t actually around?_

His phone vibrated as the message sent and immediately received responses from the other members of his favorite group chat.

_Brian:_

_He’s a dick, so nah._

_Adam:_

_I can still make him disappear_

_If you really want me to._

_Wenslydale:_

_(_ _︶︿︶)_╭∩╮_

_Pepper:_

_I can also make people disappear_

_But not your mum_

_She’s pretty cool now_

_Me:_

_Sorry Adam_

_I’m more scared of Pepper getting away with murder_

_You get the case, Ninja Pepper_

_Pepper:_

_Damn right I do._

_Adam:_

_Understandable, have a nice day._

“It’s barely even six in the morning, how are all of you awake right now?” Warlock barely looked up from his phone as Nanny Ashtoreth came stomping, stopping to ruffle Warlock’s hair as she did every morning.

“It’s almost 7:30, Nanny.” Warlock’s hair would fall back in its curtain around his face. He barely had to do anything to style it and it was awesome, no matter what anyone else said. “Mum and Dad were… talking in the kitchen, and I didn’t want to disturb them.” 

“Is that why you’re stalling from getting your breakfast by hiding in the hallway and pretending you can’t hear anything?” Warlock could see one of Nanny’s eyebrows being raised over the top of her sunglasses and tried really hard not to fidget in shame. “Oh, Warlock,” Nanny sighed as she ruffled Warlock’s hair again. “What have I always told you about confrontation?”

“That I need to march in and make all the minions fall into line as is my right as a prince,” Warlock said glumly, focusing on his phone as it pinged.

_Adam:_

_Don’t forget we’re meeting today!_

“Exactly,” Nanny nodded. “And if it’s Adam that just texted you about going to visit him today, tell him that yes, I remember and we’ll head out right after breakfast.

“That’s so weird how you both are able to just know what the other one is thinking,” Warlock muttered as he sent an affirmative text back to Adam.

“As you younglings say, sometimes it just be that way,” Nanny said dryly. “Come on, you only get a few minutes to eat. And tell Wensleydale to wake his mothers up so they won’t be late for work again.”

“Seriously,” Warlock said as his fingers started flying across his phone, “you are _my_ Nanny, why do you keep doing this for my friends and their _parents_?”

“Once you take care of the same kids for a decade, you’ll have a better idea,” Nanny said dryly, pushing Warlock towards the kitchen. “Besides, you still need to talk to your mum about what you want to do for your birthday party.”

“Do I really need a party?” Warlock whined. “Can’t I just go hang out with the others for Adam’s birthday?”

“Isn’t it your birthday, Young Lordling? Why should I tell you what to do?”

“Because you always do and you sometimes have good advice.”

“Only sometimes? I’m hurt, Young Master,” Nanny said in that way that meant she wasn’t hurt at all. “What about getting a dog? I hear eleven year olds with dogs are all the rage these days,” she said as she waited for Warlock to push open the door. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Warlock had known Nanny is whole life and he could count on one hand the times that Nanny hesitated before speaking. Weird. He knew Nanny didn’t mind dogs, not when she had Rover the Bloody sleeping in her room before getting hit by a car years ago[3].

“No,” Warlock placed a hand on the door but didn’t push, not yet. He wasn’t ready to go in yet. Maybe both of them would have left already? Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t force Warlock to go inside and stop wasting time; she simply waited by his side until he could make his limbs move just that little more. “I’d rather have a chinchilla instead of a dog.” Warlock would rather have a snake, but that was too unrealistic to get as a pet. 

Nanny looking relieved at Warlock’s words wasn’t the weirdest thing he had seen her react to over the years, but Warlock would add it to the Them’s list of Signs and Symptoms that Nanny is Secretly a Nice Demon.[4]

After a few lingering seconds of Warlock and Nanny studying each other, Nanny snorted and ruffled Warlock’s hair again. “A chinchilla, really?”

“It’s fluffy!” Like magic, — or Warlock being distracted from his thoughts — he wasted no more time in pushing open the kitchen door and stepping inside, Nanny only half a step behind him.

“There are fluffy dogs, you know.”

“Yeah, but dogs are smelly.” Warlock wrinkled his nose. “Adam can get the dog for his birthday and I’ll just visit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Warlock,” Thaddeus boomed from the kitchen where he still sat, clearly overhearing their conversation. Mom was nowhere to be seen. Warlock didn’t flinch — this was his dad, why would he ever flinch? —- but his dad was so _loud_. “A dog is a fantastic birthday present and any boy worth his salt knows that.”

“But I really don’t —”

“No, not another but! We can go look at dogs on your birthday, or I suppose after the party.” Thaddeus paused. “Or perhaps it would be better to wait until after the trip.” He muttered.

This was why Warlock didn’t like having his dad home. He never listened and he knew Mom felt the same way. Had he always been like this? Warlock didn’t know, he hadn’t known Thaddeus —- Dad — even technically lived in their home until last year because he had always been over across the pond. So why was it so difficult for a grown adult to be told no?

Warlock wanted to open his mouth and tell his father off, shout at him until he understood, but… Brother Francis always said that shouting your argument didn’t mean you’ll win anything. And Brian’s aunt said the same thing, but how true was it when Thaddeus kept winning arguments by just being _louder_ than Warlock?

(He didn’t realize that Thaddeus never really won arguments as much as he bulldozed his way through, damn the consequences unless they affected him personally.)

Bony fingers clasped around Warlock’s shoulder startling Warlock out of his thoughts and he glanced upwards to Nanny’s sunglasses. He had only seen her without them once —- long ago right before bed — but they didn’t hide much of Nanny’s expressions as she thought they did. Like now, he doubted anyone else but him would have seen the shadow of a wink from under the lens. One of the many ways Nanny expressed her undying support for Warlock and his decisions even though he was still a kid.

_Did Nanny even know how much Warlock loved her?_

Brother Francis and Auntie Lizzy may have said walking away from arguments were things “good” people did, but… no one ever said Warlock was a good person.[5]

“-day, maybe?” Thaddeus continued to say. Warlock hadn’t even noticed he had kept talking. “We should be back latest Sunday morning, could get a nice dane. The Douglas’ just got a new purebred, should really look into that.”

“Don’t see why, you’ve enough of the purebred brain cells for the lot of us.” Warlock pulled out of Nanny’s grasp and looked at his phone, pretending to be utterly absorbed as he walked out of the kitchen, ignoring Nanny’s muffled snort. He could always buy breakfast at school.

Warlock knew he would never be loud enough; that was just not who he was. Everyone apart from Adam in the Them was louder than him on a daily basis. But he could be petty and Nanny told him how useful it was to be petty sometimes.

_Me:_

_If I get kicked out of my home_

_Can I come stay in someone’s closet?_

_Brian:_

_Sorry Bro_

_The closet is Jack’s territory_

_Adam:_

_You have an open invitation with my parents_

_You know this_

_Brian:_

_As he is the most senior of us all_

_And very fluffy cute although he still ignores me_

_Wensleydale:_

_I mean, the guest room is usually free._

_Brian:_

_The closet cannot be claimed_

_But the guest room is there._

_Dang it, Wensley!_

_Me:_

_You heathens are the best._

_Pepper:_

_Obvi._

_What happened tho?_

_Me:_

_I may have called my dad dumb_

_I mean, I don’t know if he understood it_

_But I said it and then walked out_

_Pepper:_

_Legendary._

* * *

“Nanny Ashtoreth,” Thaddeus Dowling growled as the door slammed shut behind Warlock. “I don’t know what you’ve been teaching my boy and my wife, but it stops right now.” Crowley blinked, not that Thaddeus could see it behind her dark glasses.

“Are you, in fact, trying to threaten me, Mr. Dowling?” There was a list of things Crowley felt scared of that could threaten her and Mr. Thaddeus was nowhere near the top thirty-five of that list. But she couldn’t help but feel annoyed that this little worm had the gall to even try.

_No, she was livid. Because it was always like this, wasn’t it? Someone with more power got to lord it over others and impose themselves to their benefit regardless of the ones considered beneath them._

“Of course not,” Thaddeus said with a politician smile — he really wasn’t very good at it. “I’m simply telling you that you should consider today your last day of service.”

“Mr. Dowling.” Crowley matched his smile with one of her own and stepped closer to where he sat at the table. Stepped too far, maybe, for there really was no human way of stopping mere feet away from Thaddeus in one stride from where she had been standing. Not her problem. Especially not when Thaddeus fumbled at his now too-hot coffee mug, cursing violently as the drink spilled all over his shirt. “Let me make a few things very clear.

“One, you do not hold my contract working here. That lies solely with my charge and with his mother.”

“What, Warlock?!”

“Yes, Warlock. Now stop interrupting.” Another step forward and Thaddeus stood, nearly scrambling back in haste to get to his feet. “Two, Warlock is not your boy. He hasn’t been in a very long time. You forfeited that right when you decided work was more important than checking in on the wellbeing of your wife and your son, who you abandoned to a brand new country for _work_.” Crowley wanted Thaddeus to see her fangs, see them dripping with poison of past hurts and injustices because Crowley had never been nice and spite had always been intertwined with her temper. From how Thaddeus flinched and looked around desperately for an exit, Crowley assumed she was 

Good.

A sharp ringing broke the tension brewing in the kitchen and Crowley hissed in annoyance as she pulled out her mobile.

“Yes?”

_“Nanny! I’m glad you could pick up this early.”_ Deirdre Young’s cheerful voice came from the speaker into Crowley’s ear. It was always so difficult to stay angry when speaking with Deirdre; Crowley almost suspected witchcraft except that in the nine years they had known each other, Deirdre had never expressed any other magical tendencies and Crowley had been diligent about watching.

“ _Adam just told me that Warlock’s to be coming over today. I know how bad those two are, they did tell you, yes?”_

“Yes, Deirdre, don’t worry, love. I’m well aware and already stocked up on petrol.”

_“Oh, fantastic! I know Adam wants to talk with Warlock about birthday plans, but I’m 95% sure it’s just them planning an expedition in the park, again.”_

“Oh, most definitely,” Crowley agreed, smiling sweetly at Thaddeus as a pained expression flew across his face. If Crowley had to guess, it was most likely due to the knowledge that Warlock and Harriet had friends outside of his political sphere and affluence.

“You are not getting in the way of Warlock getting a proper birthday party.” Thaddeus tried to sound important, but it was a tad difficult when pressured nearly into the corner by a demon under the guise of a nanny.

Crowley just smiled and stepped away.

“A proper birthday party?” Harriet stood in the doorway, sparks of righteousness and determination so strong that Crowley could almost see them with her naked eye.

_Finally_.

From behind her legs, Warlock peered into the kitchen, almost but not quite holding onto Harriet’s hand like he did when he was little. Little tyke probably went and found his mum to complain and Crowley couldn’t have asked for a better response. 

She could almost see the younger Harriet, bowed and cracked and lonely, so lonely by herself in a strange country with a brand new child that she had no idea how to manage herself, let alone be able to force herself to care for a child.

Now, she stood tall, her own hands automatically moving to squeeze Warlock’s hand tighter in reassurance. She wasn’t scared to be a mother any longer and she didn’t regret any of her choices and Crowley preened in satisfaction.

_Free will._ Could be good or could be bad but mostly it made them just _human_. Crowley loved it.

_Aziraphale pretended to hate it, just like he pretended to adore Heaven and how it could do no Wrong._

“Warlock, darling. Please go with Nanny to school. You’ll be late if you keep dallying.”

“I really don’t want a dog, Mum,” Warlock mumbled as Crowley gave one last glare to Thaddeus and ushered Warlock out.

“Don’t worry.” Whatever politician smile Thaddeus had perfected over the years was only a mockery of the teeth filled grin that graced Harriet’s face at that very moment. “We’ll be having a few words.”

* * *

“Do you think Mum’s going to be okay with Dad, going after him like that?” Warlock asked once they were on the road.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, dear,” Brother Francis chimed from the back seat he had claimed at the very last second before Nanny peeled out of the manor driveway. “Your mum has been wrangling a group of teenagers rather successfully for the past year; I’m sure she can handle your father just — , please stop aiming for the pedestrians!”

“I’m not aiming for anyone, they’re just in the way!”

“But she’s never been able to change his mind before.” Brother Francis — Aziraphale — wondered how God could let Satan create such an adorable child with such a devastating destiny that would hopefully never come to pass. How had he not noticed how tiny some human beings were? Even perched near the end of the front passenger seat, with a seat-belt that would miraculous keep the ten-year old safe — especially with Crowley’s driving —, his toes barely touched the floor.

Even Aziraphale had to agree that all of Warlock’s friends were tiny and cute and he was much more fond of them than he would have ever guessed. Eleven years was barely a grain of sand compared to the six millennia Aziraphale had roamed the Earth, with Crowley always flitting about nearby but never close enough to touch. Human lives used to go by in between blinks but Aziraphale found that this past decade had stretched on and on as he watched Warlock grow with his gang of friends.[6]

It was still hard to believe that one little boy had the power to bring about the end times.

“Just because something hasn’t been done before, doesn’t mean it can’t ever be done.”

“You say that all the time, Brother Francis,” Warlock muttered.

“Well, yes, because you never know when it’ll finally come true.”

“Ugh, eternal optimism,” Nanny Ashtoreth grumbled, swerving the car around a line of slower moving cars hard enough that her passengers slid on their seats. “Makes my stomach hurt.”

“Of course it does, dear.” Aziraphale said fondly as the Bentley pulled up at the school.

* * *

In the end, Warlock had been right to feel disappointed. Harriet had been over-shouted by Thaddeus. Warlock’s eleventh birthday would be held in the manor as every proper birthday party should, with fancy dignitaries invited with their children. (“For networking opportunities!” Thaddeus had shouted while sending out his emails to people Warlock had never even heard of before. Harriet seethed next to her son; the academic in her agreed that it was a smart move politically, the more Mom part of her was ready to garrote Thaddeus for making Warlock sad and miserable.)

“It’s not the end of the world,” Nanny said to Warlock and Harriet the next day when Thaddeus went out to do whatever it was that Thaddeus did for work. “Yet,” she added hurriedly. “No one said nothing about inviting more people to the party.”

If there had been a flurry of text messages and phone calls made right after, well, Thaddeus Dowling certainly had no idea.

* * *

[1] If Thaddeus ever listened to that little voice in the very far back of his mind — also known to the rest of humanity as a conscience — he would know the answer to that question would be: many wives, thank you very much.

[2] Nanny Ashtoreth told Harriet to claim the expenses as a recurring financial entitlement for damages wrought on her taxes because “Mr. Dowling is still a wanker, especially now that I’ve had to see him several weeks in a row.”

[3] Police reports conducted by Detectives Brian and Wensleydale put the suspect as driving an old vintage car as per witness statements from Brother Francis and Civilian Warlock. 

[4] All parents had such a list. Janice was Signs and Symptoms of being a Secret Witch (But a Good Witch), Arthur was Signs and Symptoms of the Most Boring and Mundane Man Worldwide, etc. Brother Francis even had one as Signs and Symptoms of Being Part of a Nasty Cult.

[5] This is a lie. Multiple people told Warlock what a nice kid he was, especially when Nanny was around. Nanny would ruffle his hair and tell them that Warlock was actually a lord brat, but her best brat. Warlock enjoyed very much being dramatic and had a secret dream of one day joining the Royal Shakespeare Company with his CoLead being Pepper who secretly also had the same dream. This secret was not as safe they both imagined it to be.

[6] Wensleydale was Aziraphale’s favorite of the lot, if only because he had picky taste in food which Aziraphale found fascinating to discuss with the pre-teen.


	4. In Which A Party is Thrown with Only Some Disastrous Results

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a million thanks to my beta mllekurtz  !!!!

The morning of Warlock and Adam’s birthday promised clear blue skies and mild temperatures for the month of August, the sort of weather one wanted to wear a light jacket in until the humidity made it unbearable.

Adam didn’t want the humidity so he’d make sure there wouldn’t be any humidity today, not in Tadfield and not in London because then it would be too hot and Adam liked wearing his jacket. He’d never really had his own birthday party before, it wasn’t something that interested him as a child and Adam understood Warlock’s own reluctance for this party, because why would anyone _want_ to have near strangers giving you offerings and congratulating you for being born when they could explore the world with only their best friends instead?

Pepper and Brian didn’t really understand, they both adored being noticed and praised to really get it, but neither of them said anything about it and that’s why Adam loved them. You didn’t have to understand someone to love them, is what his mum always said and his mum was usually right about those sort of things. Adam preferred to stay in the background, sure he was the, quote unquote, leader of the Them, because he was really good at making decisions, but he preferred watching others and figuring out what they really wanted to do but sometimes wouldn’t say.

Warlock and Wensleydale were both like that; they never really said what they wanted to do, but were happy enough following along with whatever game Brian, Pepper, or even Adam himself had suggested. Even Nanny had tried teaching the two how to be more assertive over the years with little success.

( _“You’ll be ruling the armies of Hell one day, my little Hellspawn,” Nanny had said, kneeling down in front of them. “And you, my tiny Scholar, will be communicating knowledge to idiots. You need to learn how to talk and enforce your will to them.”)_

Nanny loved all of them but was too afraid to acknowledge it, Adam noticed. Just as he noticed her many names, all of which rang true, but he never knew which one she preferred and so she was simply Nanny, which he could tell she loved more than she thought she would. Adam didn’t know how he knew these things, he just always had. He didn’t care too much for the reason.

“Adam! Are you almost ready to go?” his mom called, breaking Adam out of his thoughts.

“I’m ready.” He’d packed everything he needed for the party already in his backpack: Warlock’s present, some onions he’d wrapped in a bag, a phrase book, and a purple donkey which was also for Warlock but only for the afternoon. He’d also packed one of Sarah’s old dog collars from before she moved out with her boyfriend, he had a strong feeling that he would need it today.

He’d shared with the Them the news of the witch moving into Jasmine Cottage a few days ago and it was immediately agreed upon by the Them that some sort of inquisition would have to be formed. They didn’t have red cloaks, but Adam reasoned that as long as they all wore some sort of red it would still count as a uniform.

His dad wasn’t able to take off work, but Mom was so Adam got to sit in the front seat as a treat with Wensleydale, Jessica, and Janice squeezed together in the back seat of the car to carpool down to London. Pepper, her mums, younger sister, and Brian would all be going in the Sherwood’s van and they would hopefully be able to take Warlock with them on the ride back for a sleepover with the Youngs after the party.

It didn’t take long to drive down and Adam was relieved to find that they were the first guests of the party, arriving almost an hour early.

“Thank you all for coming!” Harriet greeted them at the door, eyes bright with an almost feverish mania. “Happy Birthday, Adam. Warlock’s out in the backyard making sure everything is set up properly and he has your gift from us, feel free to join him.”

The adults followed Harriet to the dining room where the snacks were being kept, already speaking in low voices about matters Adam didn’t care about. Adam had been to the Dowling residence numerous times although he preferred it when Warlock was able to come see him in Tadfield, so he had no problems finding the door to the backyard by himself.

_Splash!_

The moment Adam stepped through the door, something cool and wet hit his face, dripping down to his neck and jacket collar and Adam froze.

Maybe he did want the weather to be more humid now.

He could hear Warlock laughing close by and blinked; Warlock was standing near the shade of the trees that marked the edge of the backyard with a familiar figure next to him and large plastic gun in his hands.

“Hi, Adam!” Warlock tossed the gun to his companion, who didn’t move an inch except to raise an unimpressed eyebrow up from behind their sunglasses, and let the gun hit the ground with a thud.

The companion had short red hair, styled artfully in a way that might have been _cool_ in his dad’s time but Adam thought looked dumb.[1] He was tall and lanky and wore all black but for a silver tie thingy like some sort of rock star from the 80’s.

“Hi Nanny Crowley,” Adam said as he walked over.

“Yo, Adam.” Nanny said. Adam had met Nanny Ashtoreth’s other form, as the Them called it, a few times, mostly when Nanny was sick of the long hair and skirts and wanted to parade around in an undercut with a leather jacket. Warlock swore his mum had heart eyes the first time Nanny went out in that look and had lamented to Morgan about unfair it was that Nanny was already taken, a sentiment Pepper’s mum both confirmed and agreed with.

_(Nanny hadn’t said she was with anyone, but anyone with eyes could see how she and Brother Francis mooned at each other.)_

“Dad said he didn’t want his ‘friends’,” Warlock curled his fingers in the universally known quotation mark gesture at the word friends, “knowing that I still have a nanny because of his inc — incompar —”

“Incompetence, darling.”

“— Incompetence. I knew that, Nanny.”

“And why the water guns?”

Warlock grinned. “Well, it is my birthday party, after all. And I want water guns, even though my dad is inviting over some very important foreign guests to talk shop with who will be dressed up very fancily for some odd reason.”

“Warlock’s brilliant plan, naturally.” Nanny strolled closer to the boys, with his hands in his pockets and slouching in a way that Nanny Ashtoreth usually never did. “But why do you have onions in your backpack, Adam? I can smell those things all the way from here.”

“It’s for the witches,” Adam said seriously.

And that was that.

* * *

It was Pepper who suggested that the Inquisition begin their training of hunting witches on the guests at Warlock’s party. She was also the one who suggested and implemented the idea that Thaddeus Dowling was the head witch in charge and as such he needed to be targeted for the vast majority of frontal assaults planned. And, as she was the Head Torturer of the Inquisition ( _obviously_ , Brian), she should be leading these assaults.

“Aren’t witches usually female though?” one unknown boy from the politician guests asked, dragged into the game upon his fashionably late arrival. Pepper had shot a spray of water at the boy.

“That’s a lie made up by the patriarchy.” With a sweet smile, she cocked the water gun, threateningly. “Anyone else have any stupid questions?”

No one did.

Nanny — Crowley, he had told the new kids to call him — obediently made sure the buckets were always filled with water so the kids’ guns were never empty. And then he set them loose to descend upon the other poor people of the party mingling on the lawn of the backyard — half of which were there for work-related reasons, dressed in very fancy and expensive bespoke suits to establish political connections with the American diplomat and the rest of his guests.

Crowley smiled to himself as the chaos unfolded before his very eyes and shrieks of dismay filled the air. Oh, yes, it was very clear to see how Warlock could be the Antichrist with this plan of his, much more diabolical than Aziraphale’s suggestion of having him perform as a magician for the children.

Adam hadn’t been the only one to bring odd items to battle witches.

“Curse them with the onions, Inquisitor!”

“It’s Spanish onions, Pepper!”

“Wensleydale, did you just throw Adam’s donkey and your macarenas at someone?”

“Yes?”

“Wicked!” shouted several of the kids Crowley couldn’t remember the names of.

Brian started using a poster as a sword in conjunction with his water gun; Crowley suspected that the poster had been blessed because it was somehow still as stiff as a board even with all the water hitting it.

Then someone had the bright idea to take the fight inside. And the Spanish Inquisition in training plus Guests charged.

* * *

“So, water guns?” Morgan asked Harriet as they hid away in the kitchen, standing around the table and drinking wine.

“Warlock’s idea,” Harriet admitted. “Although Nanny Ashtoreth suggested to him to think of something messy.” She and Nanny had put tarps securely over all the furniture in the parlor room, which led to the backyard, and in the dining room where some of the more distinguished guests decided to talk and trade secrets. Harriet could see Thaddeus buttering up to the Italian Cultural Attaché in the dining room through the kitchen door.

“Did you know he hasn’t even wished Warlock happy birthday, yet?” Harriet muttered bitterly. “Can’t believe the nerve…”

“So what are you doing about it?” Janice asked, placing the plate of crackers and cheese that had been left out in the dining room for the guests on the table for the six of them to munch on.

“I’ve told him in no uncertain terms that this will be the last publicity stunt he pulls with us, because it’s affecting my work and school. There’s this trip to the Middle East this week and after, if he tries to make us go anywhere else, I’ll be filing for divorce and make it scandalous.”

“Why not actually file for divorce now? Worried about the stability? Oooh, is this Gruyère?” Priscilla sliced a piece of cheese and popped it in her mouth; she didn’t even have the decency to pair it with a cracker, that heathen.

“Oh, I am, I’m just not saying anything until the paperwork is all completed. Jessica’s helping me with that.”

“Hells yeah, love.” Jessica reached over the table to high-five Harriet. “Can’t do shit about math but give me a chance to argue in court and I am ready to go.”

Of course, that’s when the screaming began as a dozen preteens stormed the manor taking no prisoners alive, and soaking everything in their sight.

Harriet was just glad she had warned her friends to wear comfortable clothing that they wouldn’t mind getting damaged.

* * *

“- irresponsible things you had to do and ruin my chances of making nice with _important_ people, Warlock!” Thaddeus was still yelling at Warlock once everyone Warlock didn’t really know had left. Warlock wasn’t really paying attention to his dad any longer, too busy on his phone sending Instagram updates about his excellent party - if he did say so himself, regardless of what his dad thought. Nanny had been able to take some excellent shots with her mobile and had texted them to Warlock to send to the others. It wasn’t like his dad was saying anything really important, anyways.

“Listen, dude,” Morgan interjected in a very terrible American accent. “It’s Warlock’s birthday, you can lay off, and maybe chill out? Seemed like a pretty good birthday party to me.”

With his dad’s attention now on Peppe’s mom, Warlock was able to slip back outside and join the Them in cleaning up the yard under Nanny’s supervision. Which there was very little to clean up considering most of the projectiles had been nothing but water, but Nanny had always been twitchy about plants.

“I still reckon I’m going to get a dog for my birthday.” Adam said carrying three water guns to put back in the giant bucket that had been emptied out of any water.

“Isn’t it a little too late to get a dog now, Adam? It is already three..” Wensleydale pointed out.

“Nah, I think it’ll be a good time.”

“Better you than me.” Warlock told Adam. “I’m happy with the games you all got me.” 

“What kind of dog would you even want, Adam?” Brian asked.

“One of those great big Rottenweilers, yeah?” Pepper would have liked one of those, but mom was allergic to dogs, so all they had at home was a vicious cat who Pepper loved.

“Not a big dog, but one that’s smart and wants to have fun. Proper pedigree mongrel, would be good.” That’s all Adam needed in a dog really. Why would he need something vicious when he could have another friend to play with?

Really, no one who had been friends with Adam Young from a very young age should have been surprised when a small Jack Russell trotted up to Adam from absolutely nowhere and demanded head scratches.

“I knew I was right to bring the dog collar.” Adam said, kneeling to pet his new friend.

From across the yard, no one noticed Crowley curse and stumble, only preventing himself from falling face first in the dirt by the sudden miraculous arrival of Aziraphale, who caught his shoulder. They were too busy cooing over the new puppy; she was the best girl after all.

* * *

[1] Adam’s own hair was too curly to be properly styled into those cool looks he saw on the telly without using nearly a whole bottle of gel. There are some things far more powerful than the Antichrist.


	5. In Which Certain Entities Panic and Do So Flawlessly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the home stretch thudettes and gentlethems! I can't believe I manged to complete the bang and I'm so glad I did with the help of mllekurtz  as a beta and  cheese as the best artist. 
> 
> Enjoy everyone!

“What do you mean, we’ve been raising the wrong Antichrist?” Aziraphale hissed - which, first off, rude, hissing was Crowley’s thing, thanks. And secondly, Crowley had been the Nanny and doing the raising, Someone-dammit, Aziraphale!

“I mean, we — and by we, I clearly mean I — have been raising the wrong Antichrist for eleven years.”

“Maybe you were mistaken?”

“I have eyes, angel! I know which human the hellhound went to first and it wasn’t Warlock!”

The dog was rather cute, Crowley had to admit, watching the kids play with the hellhound by tossing random balls Warlock found in the garden shed. It was small with patchy brown and white fur and a folded ear that looked like it could never stand up straight. Straight out of a Hallmark movie that one was, except for the glowing red eyes.

“Well,” Aziraphale said also watching the dog and kids, but it wasn’t with any sort of fondness. “What should we do? I don’t think the dog has been -”

CROWLEY. A booming voice echoed from his mobile, loud enough to grab the attention of everyone in the backyard. Crowley winced as the dog whimpered in the sudden silence, all eyes of the Them and Aziraphale on him and the mobile that lay in his palm.

Quickly putting up a finger against his lips — a sign everyone knew that meant if they said a word Nanny would make them do the worst chores she could think of, like going to a trash dump and picking out the nicest scraps of metal or clothes, volunteering at a veterinarian office to clean up all the messes left behind by the sick animals, or worse, doing dishes — Crowley took a deep breath and looked down at the mobile in his hand that had started to smolder while waiting for a response.

“Er, yes, Lord Dagon?”

WE ARE STILL WAITING FOR YOUR REPORT CROWLEY. HAS THE HELLHOUND REACHED THE ANTICHRIST YET?

“Er, yes, Lord Dagon. Hellhound is — urk — right here.”

VERY GOOD. YOUR PART IN THIS IS NOW OVER, CROWLEY. OTHERS WILL MAKE SURE ARMAGEDDON HAPPENS. PRAISE BE TO OUR LORD SATAN.

“Er, yeah. Praise be and all that. Nice working for you. Ciao.”

The dog barked as the phone went silent and the backyard burst into noise.

“Armageddon? What does Armageddon mean?”

“Who was that, Nanny? They sound dangerous and epic!”

“Hellhound, did anyone else hear hellhound? Because I definitely heard hellhound.”

“Look, look, Brian, Armageddon means the end of the world. An apocalypse! That’s so cool.”

“Holy cow, are there going to be flaming meteors flying down? Warlock, there should be flaming meteors.”

“No, no apocalypse until I’ve broken down the patriarchy to pebbles!”

Adam hadn’t said a word, idly petting the dog while sitting down on the still damp grass. Crowley tossed his phone and sauntered over, letting Aziraphale handle the other kids for the moment. Technically, he hadn’t even lied to Lord Dagon; the hellhound had arrived. Just to the wrong child.

Shit, Crowley had a whole speech planned for Warlock just in case he did name the hellhound.[1] He didn’t for Adam and he had never been all that great at improvising.

“So.” Crowley drew to a blank and squatted down near Adam. His mind blanked and he didn’t — he couldn’t, _urk_.

“I was supposed to be this Antichrist, wasn’t I?” Stepping silently had been a skill Warlock taught himself — Crowley had taught him to stomp to be more imposing — and he used it to slip down next to Adam and across from Crowley with barely a sound and with a sad smile. “I think all those times you kept calling me Hellspawn and that I’d be ruling the world one day, gave it away.”

“Yeah. Supposedly, Americans are the worst at parenting, I think was their logic.” Crowley sighed and removed his sunglasses, blinking to let his pupils adjust to being in such a bright light after centuries of hiding behind a lens. The multiple gasps as he pocketed the sunglasses reminded Crowley that Warlock was the only one of this lot to have ever seen his eyes before.

_(“I knew it!” Someone whispered, Crowley couldn’t tell who, but thought it might have been Wensleydale. “Pay up that five quid.”_

_“Shut it, not now, Wens!” Brian whispered back.)_

“What, have real shit parents and then want to let the Earth destroyed because of trauma?” Warlock asked as the others settled nearby, Aziraphale hovering in the background.

“I guess? I couldn’t tell you, I was just supposed to make sure the Antichrist was delivered to the right parents.” Crowley sighed again. “Honestly, you all are taking this much better than I thought you would.”

Four members of the Them looked around at each other, the last not moving from his newly acquired pet, and shrugged.

“Honestly, Nanny, you raised me more than anyone else,” Warlock started. “You sorta helped raise all of us and you’re _really_ weird. So is Brother Francis.”

“And sometimes, things just happen when you aren’t there, like gravity stopping for a minute cause we wanted to know if we could climb trees faster.” Wensleydale added.

“Or that time Mr. Tyler couldn’t see us even when we were standing right in front of him and shouting, remember that?”

It was while Adam was folding himself smaller and smaller, as the Them recalled those weird instances — always in Tadfield, Crowley had noticed, and always with Adam. Crowley must have been a right idiot to not pick up on it when it happened right in his face constantly — that Aziraphale stepped forward.

“Adam,” Aziraphale said kindly, “it’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!” Adam scampered to his feet, pushing the puppy away from him and stepping away from his friends. “It’s not fine at all! I don’t want to end the world! I don’t want to reform the world and change it until it’s completely unrecognizable and I don’t want people to _die_!”

“Adam!” As if summoned by her son’s distress, Deirdre Young nearly flew out of the house. “Adam, what’s wrong, honey?”

Adam burst into tears.

* * *

“So let me see if I understand this correctly.” Jessica Wensleydale looked down at the notebook she had grabbed when Deirdre called a Moms meeting after herding the kids, Nanny who was now a man going by Crowley, and Brother Francis who asked everyone to please call him Aziraphale for now. Thaddeus had already stormed outside, furious about the party activities, much to Harriet’s relief. “You two are actually celestial beings —”

“I’m occult, he’s celestial.”

“Yes, yes, semantics.” Jessica scratched a line on her notes. “Okay! Occult, celestial, whatever. But your bosses, which are actually Heaven and Hell, called for Armageddon by making an Antichrist use their power and summon the armies of Hell and begin the final battle that will lead to the destruction of the whole Earth.”

“So far so good.”

“Right, and Warlock was supposed to be the Antichrist, which is why you stayed as a Nanny, Ash, sorry Crowley, and you as the gardener, Aziraphale.”

“Yes, that is correct.” Aziraphale nodded from his spot in the corner of the living room, a warm cup of tea steaming in his hands.

“Why didn’t you do it the other way around?” Priscilla asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have the angel watch over the Antichrist?”

“Please, _mum_.” Pepper rolled her eyes from her spot on the floor with Adam. “We all know Nanny is the nice one.”

“Hush, Pepper.”

“No, I’m afraid Pepper is correct,” Aziraphale said sheepishly. “Compared with Crowley, I’m rubbish with children. I’m more fond of books.”

“Oh, shut it. You’re perfectly fine with kids,” Crowley grumbled from the floor, shoulder to shoulder with Deirdre and Harriet, who had allowed the children to comfortably sprawl across their laps and legs. Adam sat in Deirdre’s lap, his face buried in her shoulder to avoid looking at anyone else.

“You’re not mad about that, are you?” Warlock asked Crowley softly, sitting between Crowley and Harriet. “That I’m not the Antichrist and you wasted your time with me?”

“Warlock,” Crowley said sternly, gently grabbing Warlock’s hands with his own, although he may have been elbowing Deirdre to do so. “Believe me when I say that I have never wasted my time on anything, let alone my little Hellspawn. The only thing I’m mad about is that it’s my fault your birthdays were ruined because of my superiors.”

“But it wasn’t!” Warlock protested. “Yeah, I didn’t want a party, but I had fun. You helped make it fun and didn’t ruin it at all, Nanny.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that.” Crowley absolutely did not ruffle Warlock’s hair and pull him closer for a hug; anyone who said otherwise would be clearly lying through their teeth.

Morgan cleared her throat. “Regardless, what do we do?”

“I mean, I really don’t think I could take this to court to argue against. What would I even be arguing for?” Jessica scribbled on her notebook, before ripping out a page and crumpling it before tossing it towards the waste bin in the corner.

“And I’m assuming you couldn’t march us into Hell for a protest,” Deirdre huffed. “I would like some strong words with Satan, I can tell you that much.” Even as he shook his head, Crowley smiled. Crowley had known these women for nine years; he knew Deirdre wouldn’t be marching alone straight to Satan’s office even if it was Warlock who was the Antichrist, instead of Adam.

_~~He would miss them once they left.~~ _

“Oh, for the love of, Adam?” Harriet shifted, carefully moving Warlock closer to Nanny and standing up to step over them, closer to Deirdre and Adam. “Adam, love. I know you’re awake. Can you look at me for just a moment?”

A long pause, and then Adam’s head lifted from Deirdre’s shoulder, eyes rimmed with red and cheeks blotchy.

“Hi, there you are,” Harriet smiled at Adam, who only stared back, silently. “Do you think you could answer a question for me, Adam?” 

Harriet waited and the others waited with her with bated breaths as Adam stared unblinkingly at Warlock’s mother. Slowly, he nodded.

“What do you want?” And he froze, confused at the question because, because… he didn’t know.

_What did he want?_ He didn’t want anything, he’d never had. He didn’t want to be the Antichrist, didn’t want any power that could hurt others.

But he knew he _had_ those abilities. It was only sometimes, in the dead of the night or when he was so very tired and he wasn’t listening to someone else talk, he could hear a cacophony whispers echoing in his mind about his birthright, about his strength for a new world order.

He didn’t want that. He wanted…

“I want to just be Adam. Adam Young.” He whispered. “I don’t want Armageddon. Isn’t that the only right answer?”

Harriet just smiled. “Not at all. It took me awhile to learn, but you get that power to choose, Adam, regardless of the consequences. If you wanted to stay the Antichrist, well, I’m sure there might have been some problems, but sure. And if you don’t want to be the Antichrist, that’s your choice too and we can figure out how to make it happen. So, what do you want?”

Free will. Human choices. Nanny had emphasized those a lot when she watched over him throughout the years. But, he had never really understood it until right this second. The power of being able to make your own decisions without someone else telling you what to do. It seemed so simple and apparent.

“I want to be Adam Young, human,” Adam decided and chose.

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* * *

Reality is a funny thing and is never idle, always changing somewhere in the universe. The power of the Antichrist couldn’t destroy anything, not yet, but it could force change in reality to its whims.

Adam chose to not be the Antichrist. He forced reality to change so he had never been an Antichrist, that there was no Antichrist primed to bring about the end times. He wouldn’t, at any rate.

.

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* * *

They were all at Adam’s house, squeezing in the kitchen to fit everyone so they could watch the cake being cut. Warlock and Adam sat side by side at the end of the table, a large chocolate cake with strawberries and topped with eleven candles in front of them.

Adam’s parents stood right next to him with a knife ready to cut the cake while Harriet, Warlock’s mum, was taking pictures on her phone. Brian clapped and sang enthusiastically with Pepper’s younger sister, while his Aunt Lizzie looked fondly on. Pepper and Wensleydale passed out the napkins and forks, while their parents, Morgan, Priscilla, Janice, and Jessica sang _Happy Birthday_ at the top of their lungs to the birthday boys. And in the back of the room, stood Nanny Crowley and his not-yet-official partner, Aziraphale, smiling and ready to take more pictures. Under the table, Dog barked and ran in circles, her tail whacking all the available shins. His mum had picked her up today from the animal shelter she volunteered at and Adam had loved her at first sight. 

Pepper wouldn't stop complaining about the name though.

They’d all been friends for years and years and couldn’t tell Adam how they became part of one big close knit group. Not that he ever wondered.[2]

“Happy Birthday to You!” The group belted out.

“Blow out the candles, you two! I want some of that cake!”

“Quit being a glutton, Brian and let them decide on their wishes!”

Adam looked at Warlock and grinned. He didn’t need to wish for anything this year; he already had everything he wanted.[3]

He got to be Adam Young.[4]

* * *

[1] He didn’t, not really. Went something more along the lines of, Congratulations, you decided to unlock a special achievement of Doomsday because Heaven and Hell are utter morons. Warlock would have absolutely reacted positively to that. 

[2] He never wondered, but a certain demon and angel certainly did wonder how they managed to get adopted into a crew of humans without them even remembering the reasons why.

[3] Warlock on the other hand, spent each year wishing for new games and electronics. “One could never have enough video games, Mom, Nanny, and Aziraphale. I’ve told you all this hundreds of times.”

[4] The demon Hastur, Duke of Hell, had a trip to Megiddo scribbled in his calendar and he didn’t know why. When he arrived, he met the most irritating American who also had a trip to Megiddo planned without knowing why. Hastur killed him but that was such an inconsequential event for a person no one cared for that it could only ever be mentioned in a footnote.


End file.
